Because of you
by EriksQueen
Summary: France is left to deal with a distraught England on the anniversary of the Revolutionary War. England was suffering so he should have been happy... right?


Constructive criticism is always welcome!

[I know that in Axis Powers: Hetalia, the War of American Independence was only fought between England and America but in History we were always taught that France and Spain had a big involvement with fighting and supplying as well so I decided to put it in – my idea wouldn't have really worked without it.]

Hinted FrUK, USUK and SpUK

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own Axis Powers: Hetalia or any characters and places associated with Hidekazu Himaruya and Gentosha Comics. No profit is made from the writing for this fanfiction!

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Another boring world meeting, sat at a table with over a hundred others, all staring blankly into the open space and letting the 'important' news flow in my left ear and out my right. It was hard to keep a gentlemanly presence when you've been sat at a desk in a conference room that was designed by someone who obviously didn't believe that windows could open!

The sunlight was filling the room and the temperature had been rising in whole degrees every moment – at least from my position, slightly slanted towards the front so as to get an eye-fill of sunrays – it felt like it!

I swept my fringe off my forehead; the idea that any amount of heat or pressure could turn me into a mess was unthinkable. Shifting in my seat again I let my eyes wonder for a moment, taking them off a hyped up Alfred as he bounded on about how… if I was honest I didn't know, nor care.

My mind had been wondering for a time, anyone with eyes and that included all of the idiots that I had to work with, could see that. Arthur sat by my side.

He sat there in a way that only he could… I'd say it was so arrogant but that wouldn't be the correct term. His arms were folded across his chest apart from the couple of times he would shift his position as he anxious waited for the young maid to come back with a refill of tea. His eyes followed Alfred's every word with a scowl trying to force its way onto his face; a scowl he was trying so hard to push back.

It was getting harder to watch Arthur, knowing that so much pain was running through him to see the other nation. It almost made me pity him against my better judgment.

Once the meeting had ended and we had left the building, watching all the other countries walking in opposite directions, Arthur turned to me finally, my hand daintily held in mid-air as I want to tap him on the shoulder. He had malice in his voice which never surprised me but an overall saddened expression which he was trying to mask behind bitter words.

"You were looking at me though the entire meeting!" He growled, his eyes turning to ice. "If you've got a problem then just bloody say it!"

My expression dropped and my eyes trailed down to his clenched fists, shaking against his legs. "Arthur… did you want to go for a drink?"

His shacking halted briefly and he coughed unexpectedly. "A drink…?"

I nodded. "A drink…"

Sat in a smoky bar with English gentleman wrapped around my waist wasn't the way I had expected to end the evening, but it happened. He sat half on my bar stool, his head holding him up as it pushed into the hollow of my neck, fingers entwining into my hair with the bottle of Whisky still in his clammy grip. His words became indistinguishable as his lips moved against my shoulder.

"That bloody…" That's when it started, not thinking once how much easier it would have been to let him continue under his own steam. "…Antonio!"

"Arthur, I'm sorry about Alfred…" I muttered, much to my own stupidity as I started to man on another rant. Antonio left his mind the moment the American's name left my lips.  
"…feckin' Alfred! He was meant to come back!" He spat out, sobbing uncontrollably as I smoothed down his hair.

The American War of Independence… "Arthur I'm sorry…" I sighed, running my fingers though his hair.

I remembered everything about that war, the entire fight from the side lines and I watched again as Arthur feel down onto his knees in the cold rain at Alfred's feet.

_I whipped my hair away from my face with one hand as my other one extended out to hold back my troops. Arthur and Alfred stood apart, the contrast in their faces told their story better than I ever could: Alfred plastered with determination and pent up anger, Arthur looking like a drowned rat… so hopeless to the point it made my heart weep!__  
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Arthur had collapsed onto his knees, watching him fall was like watching everything in slow motion… wanting desperately to catch him and wrench him back up to his feet and to tell him that it wasn't over. I wanted to feel the satisfaction I thought I would when everything broke down… To feel the same as I felt when Alfred came to me for help… but it never came. All that came was a horrible cocktail of guilt and distress.__  
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I hated Arthur, but I couldn't watch as Alfred turned his back… watching the English man stare after him like an abandoned child. I walked up to the man on the saturated ground, pushing his hair out of his eyes.__  
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"Arthur…?"__  
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How could I define him; how he looked though my tear-blurred vision? "Francis…"_

The man looked up with teary eyes, letting his head fall forward onto my shoulder. "Why did you help him you bastard?" I let the tears run down his cheeks, catching them with my shirt. "He… he would never have left if it wasn't for you!" He whispered into my hair, tracing his lips across my jaw.

I needed him off me, the very moment his lips touched me and when he finally did get off me it wasn't a moment too soon! I breathed a sigh of relief, swallowing the lump of nervousness that had developed in the back of my throat.

I whipped my forehead with the back of my hand and took a deep breath, looking down at the English man as he stared up at me with dazed eyed… oblivious to everything that was happening and far more fascinated by now being on the floor.

"Let's get you home Arthur…"

I couldn't explain why anything had happened that evening and by anything I mean me pushing the drunken male off me, helping him home without staying and the pity I felt for him even the next day.

So many thoughts buzzing round my head… the feeling you could only get from some force in you that drove you to do out-of-character things like comforting your worst enemy. No matter how much I thought about it, the one thought that came to mind was… well, guilt. It hurt, everything that he had saw go through Arthur in the World Conference, at the pub… how or why he had let it happen, I didn't know.

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Thanks for reading x


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